I watched her sleep for hours, observing every twitch as I waited for her to wake up.
Just a few moments passed before she demonstrated the determination and strength that I know she possesses. She took a visibly deep breath and sat up, her eyes scanning the room, searching for something that’s not there: a way out. When she tried to get up on her feet, I knew it was too soon and too quickly to succeed. I knew it before I saw her sinking down to the floor when her legs gave out.
But I didn’t expect her to recover that quickly.
She’s standing now, facing the door, but not dumb enough to cause the ruckus other people would feel obliged to. There’s a half-assed attempt at hammering against the sturdy wood, but she gives up on it rather quickly, rubbing her small fist while she glares at the door with furious desperation.
Her shoulders sink, signaling defeat.
“Hello?”
Just one word, spoken softly and riddled with doubt, showing that she knows how little impact it will have. She waits for a moment as the word echoes against the walls inside her cold cell.
Other people would freak out; they would scream and waste all their strength to violate the only door in the room. But she does no such thing.
Instead, she retreats to the only place that can serve her now: her mind. My shoulders tense up when I see her closing her eyes, lowering her chin as she shuts herself away from any external impression.
She shouldn’t be doing this. It’s dangerous, possibly hurtful. The walls erected inside of her are ready to withstand any penetration she might muster at this moment, and attacking them will only lead to agony.
It doesn’t take long for her to realize that. Her body starts swaying as she starts grimacing, turning sideways so I can no longer see her face. I hate that and wish I had installed more than just this one camera in her room. I need to see everything of her, especially now when she’s about to do something that’s potentially dangerous.
Her swaying turns into trembling, and while I can no longer see her face, I can see her little hands as they turn into fists, speaking of the battle she’s enduring.
Stop it, little girl. Stop it right now.
But she doesn’t. Her shoulders move up and down too quickly and with too much force when she starts breathing heavily, coming close to hyperventilating. This erratic heaving is only the beginning and could turn into so much more, something that could lead to her harming herself.
Shit. I can’t let this happen.
I need to stop this.